Princeor Princess?
by Sanaia
Summary: Prince Edwards twin sister runs away from home, and everyone in the kingdom is now depending on him to complete her tasks, including finding a husband. Now, is it 'Prince' or 'Princess' Edited. May finally be continued.


**Prince...or Princess?**

**A/N:**** Another plot flooding my mind endlessly until I wrote it. Do you all know how many fanfiction plots have been randomly popping up into my mind, just about every week or so? It stirrs quite an annoyance, because I don't want to start a million stories at once and never get around to finishing them! But this one...I made an exception. For, it is, my first Roy/Ed fic. And it'll be a very cute one, as well. **

**Chapter 1: Feminine Fatal**

"Ouch! Stop it! That hurts! I," Gasp, "Can't breath!"

Tears were streaming down pallid cheeks, dripping off of elegant jaw lines and splattering onto smooth, shining, blood red marble flooring. A young, fragile looking male stood, hands bracing the knobs on the chair in front of him for dear life, his feet pushing his body towards the oak chair, pulling away from the lady behind him.

Or trying to, at least; it only made the pain grow worse.

A sigh from the woman, who was dressed in a lowly fashion, that of a servant or a maid. Which she was entirely, a servant.

"Stop squirming, sweets, or the pain will only get worse. You're doing this for the kingdom, doll. It's your job."

Her sickeningly sweet voice was wretched, and the words like 'sweets and doll' didn't make the pain much better as she tied another ribbon, going to the neck two laces and pulling them tight.

A slight growl emitted from pale rose colored lips, pearly whites bared in anger. "Maybe I don't want to do this for the kingdom, I never asked to be in the royal family, you know." He said with a huff, pink rising on the upper area of his cheeks, from the strain he was going through.

Oh the pain of trying to gain the figure of a woman, for the sake of the horrid kingdom. Now knowing what his sister went through, he felt sorry for her, having to be crammed in these god forsaken corsets every single day. Poor thing. Poor boy.

"You don't have a choice." The woman replied, continuing her way down the thick silken corset, which was beginning to take shape on the male's stiff, not-so-curvy body. It made him look… feminine; more than he already was, of course.

Almost as feminine as his twin sister, the princess, the pampered one. The one the king and queen planned to hand the kingdom down to. The one everyone loved, the one everyone looked up to. Everyone's everything.

As for our young prince here, well, he was second best. Second rate. The one that lurked in the shadows, watching as his superior--or, better known as, his sister--danced and laughed and celebrated with all of the townspeople, while he was left doing things with the servants, like going to the open market and gathering fruit. Everything a prince was definitely not supposed to do.

But, oh! When the situation arose, he suddenly became the castle's infatuation! Like when his sister was sick, or had gotten hurt, or just felt like skipping her own duties, the kingdom's people called upon him to save them.

Every. Single. Time.

Like that very moment, his sister had run away, and there was an oh so important banquet to look over some suitors for the princess. Now he'd have to mingle with wretched little spoiled men, who probably smelled rank and vile, and probably acted like major snobs! Imbecilic, no good sister. Imbecilic, no good kingdom.

Tears continued to fall as the lady moved away, examining her corset handiwork. "My, my, Edward, you are quite the pretty boy. Now all you need is an under coat, a dress, a wig, and a bit of make-up, and you'll look identical to your sister." She said, placing a hand on her his and a thumb on her chin, tilting her head ever so curiously.

She was right. Edward was the spitting image of his sister. Except… well… with less of a bust.

But pretty nonetheless. Quite against his will, mind you, but pretty.

Two ladies walked in, a large, fluffy dress in their arms and an oaken box with the essentials in it. "Prince Edward, here is your dress. It's one of your sister's smaller ones, so we do hope it fits." They said in unison, walking over to the corset-clad male and began to put the overcoat, and after, the dress on him, tightening it in some necessary areas, loosening it in others.

The dress was light blue, shrouded in white, transparent material. It was decorated very elegantly with shining white beads, a diamond corsage setting the mood. It was both gorgeous, and had an air of intelligence at the same time. And it made him look absolutely fitting for the role of a 'princess'. Revolting.

"Monsieur! You look absolutely gorgeous!" The girls giggled, smiling at each other with a sort of approval, "Now lets get this wig fitted and do your make-up, and you'll be ready for the banquet. The princes and kings will adore you, the maidens will envy you, thank you so much for your help." They proclaimed, opening the medium sized box and grabbing a golden wig out of it, same color as Edward's long, lustrous, hair.

The only difference between the wig and his hair was the fact the wig had curled locks, and Edward, well, did not. The wig was put on professionally, making it seem as if Edward's hair really were that curled, naturally.

One would be crazy to think of the prince as a boy now.

Lidded bowls carved out of ivory were set on the vanity in front of the group. As well as two different brushes. "Now, Edward, sir, please be still." Before he could say anything, white powder was patted onto his face and his bare arms, making him look like a ghost.

Red, shining substance was painted onto his thick, ever so kissable lips.

Black kohl, in the form of a sharpened rock, rimmed his bright eyes, and a dot was applied under his left eye. To match his sister's beauty mark, of course.

"Take a look in the mirror." The woman who was putting all of that worthless shit on him said, the smile on her face that of pure awe.

Oh. My. Lord.

"What have you done to me! I look like a copy of that lowlife snob! But I do assume that is what you fools wished to happen." He sighed, walking to the door of the room, slipping on a pair of beauteous blue heels, and stumbling out of the room.

He… looked like a--like a girl.

And he had to mingle with horny kings and princes, all of which were probably older than him. Disgusting. Maybe there was someone there, anyone there, who could relate to the eighteen year old prince. Who obviously could pull off drag marvelously.

The heels were killing his ankles, and he walked rather idiotically. He reached the long spiral of stairs, and almost tripped over the hazardous edge. But fell on his bottom, instead. It wasn't that bad, and the prince charming made it to the banquet room soon enough.

The large marble doors were opened by two overly-buff men, and Edward walked in the room, feeling all eyes fall on him.


End file.
